


Not For Long

by ValkyrieCry



Series: Capture and Enrapture [1]
Category: The Collector Series (Movies)
Genre: Getting Turned On by Torture, M/M, Obsession, Pre-Slash, Psychopath, non-graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:06:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21804892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValkyrieCry/pseuds/ValkyrieCry
Summary: The Collector had lost, had been beaten at his own game. That trespassing little shit had caught him with his own trap, and now he and the girl were running, getting away, LEAVING HIM.But not for long.
Relationships: The Collector/Arkin O'Brien
Series: Capture and Enrapture [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1581334
Comments: 10
Kudos: 77





	Not For Long

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, all! I love this small fandom, but It’s hard to get new stories because this ship is so small. So, as I was checking for something new, I just decided to write this little One-shot. Now, most of the violence in this is pretty non-graphic, and I’m pretty sure it barely counts as violence. Still, I hope you enjoy. If people like where this is going, maybe I’ll make this into a series.

Beaten. Wounded. Left to his own Hell, one he created for everyone else. The bomb was ticking, but for a few moments, he could only bring himself to blink and gasp. Brought to his knees, losing his innocent little prey. All because of HIM. The man. Where the Hell has he come from? Still, he knew that face. One of the handymen working at the house that day. He had called out to him about some hornets, had seemed so calm and uninteresting. He hadn’t cared to look at the man for too long, but now, he wanted to grind that’s man’s face into the ground. How DARE HE?!

In the next second, he was pushing the chandelier to the side, ignoring the bloody smears along the ground. He could deal with his injuries later, he needed to follow that little SHIT, and get him and the girl back. He had not put anywhere near enough injuries on the man to satisfy his anger. He wanted that man back. HE WANTED HIM BACK!!! He was running to his van, barely noticing the chill of the rain. He could deal with everything later. For now, he was going to get that man. He could just make out the man running through the trees, and he took a shortcut to the road, ready to grab the two before the could get to help. God, when he got that man-

He was seething, but something about this chase was undefinably sexy, arousing even. The idea of prey that isn’t so stupid as to just fall into his web or get entangled and torn apart like some fly? Someone scaling his setup and not dying was unprecedented, but that did not curb his rage. He would teach this little bitch his place! He pulled onto the main road, lights off, ready to search for them when he heard the sirens. Fuck! FuckfuckfuckFUCKFUCK-

He swerved quickly into a giant arch, back toward the house, just catching sight of the red and blue lights farther up. Then, he pulled into the forest, watching the police cars. He saw the shadowy movement of the man jump out of the thicket of trees, putting down the girl, running into the road, trying to wave the police cars down furiously. They couldn’t stop in time. He felt that anger, that pulsing RAGE, immediately jump to some desperate horror as he watched the man get hit, flying into the air for a moment, back slamming hard against the ground, the next car getting far too close. NO-

The second cruiser screeched to a halt, and an officer scooped up the girl, more cops swarming the weakly struggling man, rolling onto one side. In that moment, the Collector came to a startling revelation; it has been FEAR that had filled his stomach when he saw the man get hit. Why? He had no reason to care for the man. He wanted the man to suffer, so why would he care at all if he suffered agony before dying? He could be rid of the trespasser for good! Why was that such a bleak thought? The Collector stared at the man as he was quickly transferred to a gurney, an officer following him to the ambulance, police rushing the house. Well, might as well finish his work before anyone else found out about him and left the house. He pressed the detonator, and the heat of the house exploding caught some of the nearby trees on fire. The officer talking with the man, the trespasser, jumped out of the ambulance, running toward the house, a walkie-talkie pressed to his mouth, possibly for back-up as the ambulance closed, starting and going past him, the cop car with the little girl going in the opposite direction. Well, the loss of the girl was a blow, but he would get that man, one way or another. HE WOULDN’T LET HIM GO.

He followed behind the ambulance, waiting for it to reach at least a mile away from the house, far enough that it would take time for more than one car to come quickly as help. Then, he rammed the ambulance, accelerating to about 90. The outcome was beautiful; the ambulance swerved and slid along the slick ground flipping and going flying off the side of the road, coming to rest upside down. He needed to work fast, or he would be swarmed. He was parked and out of the car in seconds, opening the backdoors, and he could see the man, strapped into the gurney and stuck, eyes locked with his, trying to reach out to someone. Too late, little trespasser, you’ll get what you deserve. You’ll regret injuring me and trying to run. You’ll regret leaving me there, the Collector thought, ripping the doors open. Surprisingly, one of the paramedics, the one in the back, was still alive and conscious. He would take care of that.

He pulled a knife from his pants, flinging it at the paramedic, catch him in the throat. The trespasser was struggling, fighting, shouting.  
Should have thought of that sooner, he smirked at the bloody, terrified man, retrieving his knife and slashing the straps holding the man in the gurney, causing him to fall and curl in on himself. Then, he grabbed the man under the arms, dragging him out, the little trespasser kicking and screaming, yanking with irritating strength at his hands, almost freeing himself. NO. The Collector was on the injured man in seconds, punching him across the face, the blow slamming his head into the muddy ground, leaving him mostly limp, and that, that was just-

The Collector stood again, dragging the man closer and closer to his van, the trunk sitting calmly in the back. Not the same as the one in the house, but he always brought an extra; he never knew if he wanted to keep his last catch or not, so the loss of one trunk would not stop him. “No, NO!” The man was screaming, and that left a hot coil of pleasure in the Collector’s stomach, dragging the man into the van and slamming open the empty trunk, tossing him into it. “NO! STOP!”

God, the desperation in the little trespasser’s voice- he forced the man’s hands and legs in, but still he struggled , one hand evading him. Fine. He would regret not staying still. A hard slam of the lid on his hand, then another, and the man pulled his hand in, cradling it to his chest, reaching up with his other hand. “PLEASE!”

The lid slammed closed, and he clicked the locks into place, panting as he jumped out of the back of the van, aggressively closing and locking the doors before rushing to the front, tearing the sticker from the side of the driver door, climbing into the car. All lose ends tied up or locked away. He winced as he stretched his legs a bit wider, shifting the van into drive, pulling onto the street, headed for his “Collection”. Chasing down the trespasser has been hot. Forcing him down and hearing him beg? Satisfaction wasn’t the right word, and the hard-on he had spoke volumes. Faggot, huh? Pretty soon, you’ll be sucking this “faggot” off, little bitch, he thought, shivering, chuckling a bit. 

He hadn’t thought it when he first saw the man, but chasing him, forcing him down, hearing his cries of pain, and almost losing him had gotten him attached. He didn’t like losing things, especially once they fell into his game. This was the first time anyone had ever gotten away, even for just a few minutes, but he never wanted to let the man out of his sight again. And he was quickly finding the idea of forcibly putting the man in his place more and more appealing. You should have just left that little girl to her fate, then you wouldn’t suffer my wrath, he thought with a smirk, rubbing a gloved hand over his arousal. I’ll fuck you up, little bitch.


End file.
